


we got the stars (we got audio)

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, First Kiss, Fluff, Get together fic, M/M, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15500613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Ryan and Shane spend the night on top of a building.





	we got the stars (we got audio)

**Author's Note:**

> finally managed to get some shyan written! dunno why it took me so long. this fic is inspired by [audio by LSD, ft sia, diplo, and labrinth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tjA7nAHOAww), so give it a listen!
> 
> big thanks to hannah as always, for beta'ing! 
> 
> enjoy!

The worst part is—Shane can’t even be mad that he’s spending the night on a goddamn roof.

He just  _ can’t _ . 

It’s not even remotely chilly, despite the fact that it’s late August. The sun isn’t out but the air is warm and slightly dry, and he’s actually sort of the perfect temperature in his PJs and sleeping bag. On top of that, they’re so far from the nearest city that there aren’t any lights polluting the sky; inky and deep, the sky is wide open and spotless, save for the stars and moon. It’s kind of hard to be mad when you can see what feels like the whole universe stretching before you, above you, right before your eyes. 

Shane sighs, and rather than exhausted or annoyed or anything else—it’s contented. 

“This is fucking creepy.”

Shane sighs again, but this time it  _ is _ annoyed. “How can this be creepy? It’s fucking beautiful.” He refuses to roll over and face Ryan.

Ryan, who has been jittery since they set off by car to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nevada. Ryan, who picked out a haunted house that’s supposedly smackdab in the middle of major alien activity. Ryan, who’s screamed so much tonight, Shane is surprised he even has a voice left. Ryan, who has been tossing and turning and mumbling to himself nonstop since they set up camp on the surprisingly stable roof. 

“It’s creepy!” Ryan insists. There’s more rustling as he kicks around in his own sleeping bag. “You’re seriously telling me you didn’t hear that voice in the kitchen? Or the screaming in the basement?”

Shane closes his eyes against the night sky and breathes deeply. He takes in the scent of fresh air mingling with hot sand and exhales slowly. “No, I didn’t hear  _ any _ of the voices.” He finally turns his head and isn’t surprised to find Ryan staring back at him with wide eyes. 

It’s actually a little weird to be able to see his face this late at night. There’s a sort of persistent light around them, like the land isn’t quite ready to call it quits. It’s all purples and midnight blues, and it feels sort of forbidden. Idly, Shane thinks he needs to get out of California more. 

The moon is almost overwhelmingly bright in the sky and it casts Ryan in shades of whites and grays. It’s better, Shane thinks, than the usual fair: squinting in the pitch black to try and see his friend’s face. 

“It’s fine,” Shane says, softer. “Besides, look at this.” He nods at the sky. “This is fucking incredible.” 

Ryan’s lips twist. “Well, yeah, but we’re not out here for the  _ beauty _ . We’re out here for aliens.”

Snorting, Shane turns his gaze back to the sky. 

“C’mon!” Ryan goads. “You believe in them, you can’t just—?”

“Yes, I believe in them, we’ve established this. Does that mean I think we’re gonna catch sight of a UFO tonight? Hell no. Does that mean I’m going to enjoy this great night sky and landscape instead? You’re damn fucking right I am.”

Ryan huffs and Shane can feel the glare aimed his way. “Shane—?”

“Just, chill out.” Shane turns to his side and stares at Ryan. “Besides, if you keep talking like this, how will we know if the equipment picks anything up?”

Ryan’s mouth snaps shut with an audible  _ click _ . He hardens his glare before hurriedly turning over so his back is to Shane. 

Despite essentially asking for it, Shane feels a little bereft without Ryan’s voice, or his eyes on him. His back isn’t nearly as interesting as his face, expressive and bright even when he’s pissed. 

Shane rolls onto his back again and rests his hands on his stomach. He stares up at the sky and falls asleep trying to name constellations. 

He wakes up in a daze while it’s still dark out. The temperature finally dropped sometime in the night and he hunkers down in his sleeping bag further. He runs warm, generally, so it’s not too bad, but it’s enough to sting. He turns and hides his face against the inside of his sleeping bag and he’s just about to doze back off when he picks up on a weird noise.

For a split second, Shane thinks,  _ fuck, Ryan was right, something’s here _ . That’s the first thought his sleep-addled brain jumps to when he hears the rapid-fire clattering coming from his right side. He doesn’t really want to leave the warmth of his cocoon to investigate, and he’s weighing the pros and cons of being abducted when he realizes—

It’s not aliens (or ghosts, for that matter).

It’s just Ryan’s teeth chattering.

Shane’s eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and he can faintly make out the line of Ryan’s shivering body. 

“Ryan.”

The other man startles with a flinch and a breathy yelp. “Jesus, man. You fucking scared me.”

Shane smirks to himself. “Not hard to do. You cold?”

“It’s freezing,” Ryan snipes back, making a show of tugging his jacket and sleeping bag around him tighter. “Are you not cold?”

“Nah, it’s not that bad.” He’s about to make a remark about Illinois, or something similar about Ryan being California born-and-bred, but it dies in his throat. “C’mere,” he says instead. He slowly unzips his sleeping bag and grits his teeth against the chill.

Ryan slowly turns to face him. His face is flushed from the cold. “What?” He asks, slow and suspicious. 

“C’mere,” Shane says again as he gestures to the open space in his bag. “It’s a fucking huge sleeping bag, there’s plenty of room. Just, get over here.” 

His heart is hammering in his chest and he doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He’s clearly  _ not _ thinking, actually, because he’s never once suggested something like this. And they’ve been cold before. Most of the times they stay the night at a haunt, they’re cold and uncomfortable and a myriad of other things—cranky, hungry, tired, whatever.

Maybe it’s the open air, free of smog, that’s getting to him. Maybe he was abducted while he slept and the aliens turned him into some sort of pod person. Maybe, maybe, maybe—

Ryan shuffles over awkwardly. He wriggles over like a worm. Shane stifles a laugh against his palm as he watches his friend struggle. 

Once Ryan is within arm’s reach, Shane reaches out and hauls him closer. He drapes the flap of his sleeping bag over him; it’s too far a reach to try and zip it up again, but that’s fine. Any remaining chill is gone with Ryan pressed so close to Shane like this.

“This is weird,” Ryan whispers. 

Shane shrugs. “You were cold,” he says, like it’s all the explanation he needs. 

The moon is still bright overhead, so when Ryan looks up, Shane can make out every detail of his face. Ryan stares at him with not quite a glare but not exactly a friendly expression, either. It’s sort of how Ryan examines his notes when he’s putting together his so-called history lessons. It’s the look he gets when he’s researching cases for a new episode. Scrutinizing and critical, like he’s picking apart a mystery. 

“Go to sleep, Ry,” Shane says, his eyes growing heavy as he speaks.

Ryan finally looks away and presses his face against Shane’s chest. “‘Kay.” 

They don’t talk about it the next morning, especially not when they both wake up sweltering. They scramble to get away from each other for no reason other than it’s fucking  _ hot _ in the morning, and they both seriously feel like they might die of heat stroke if they’re that close for any longer.

They don’t talk about it in the car on the way back to their hotel, TJ behind the wheel. No one mentions Ryan isn’t dozing in the backseat like he normally would. TJ tries a few times to spark conversation, but Shane can’t focus and Ryan only gives clipped answers in response. 

They don’t talk about it in the hotel room. Not as they take turns with the shower or as they pack or as they check out just before eleven, right on time. They don’t talk about it as they shuffle  _ back _ to the car for the drive back to LA. 

They don’t talk about it for a few days after, either. Two days pass and Shane decides to write it off as—as nothing. Nothing important, at least. He doesn’t want to be the one to broach the subject and getting Ryan to talk about his feelings can be like pulling teeth sometimes, so he definitely won’t bring it up.

Besides, Shane reasons, nothing’s changed between them. They work and they banter and it’s all good and fun and  _ fine _ . 

So he’s resolutely put the cuddling out of his mind up until the Wednesday after their excursion, until Ryan bursts into their office shouting. 

“We got it! We totally fucking got something!” He still has headphones on, one ear exposed, and he’s got his laptop tucked under his arm. He’s draped in various cords and wires, and Shane bursts out laughing. He keeps laughing even as Ryan hurries over to him and practically slams the laptop onto the desk. “Shut the fuck up, Shane. We got  _ proof! _ ”

“I highly doubt that,” Shane says once he’s gotten control over his laughter. “But please, show me.” 

Ryan smirks at him as he pulls up whatever supposed proof he’s found. It takes him a moment to set it up, so Shane takes that time to examine Ryan. He looks fine, not stressed or tired or anything like that. If anything, Ryan looks better than fine—he looks elated because of this ‘proof,’ and Shane feels a preemptive pang of regret, knowing it’ll probably be the same old bullshit. 

“Here,” Ryan announces as he yanks off the headphones and jams them onto Shane’s ears. “Listen, and watch. Both.” 

Shane rolls his eyes but nods. He keeps his stare trained on the screen and strains his ears as Ryan reaches out to hit the play button. Shane watches them asleep on the roof for a few minutes, not cuddled together, and he’s about to ask Ryan to hit fast forward or something when he sees it. 

An abnormally bright and abnormally green streak flying over their heads. Not near them, or anything. It’s clearly several hundred thousand miles overhead. But that makes it all the more unsettling for how bright and vivid it is. 

Shane can feel his eyes widening and hears Ryan’s muted cheer. 

Then, the chattering starts. It’s low and quiet at first. Over the mics, it sounds almost more like an animal than what Shane knows it to be.

“Those are your teeth,” he remarks with a small grin. “You got so fucking cold, dude.” He looks away from the screen after Ryan pauses the video. 

Ryan’s cheeks are pink. “That was before I woke up, though! I woke up at like, just after three.” He points emphatically at the time stamp in the corner: two-thirty in the morning. “And you woke up a little after I did.”

“Cuz it got cold,” Shane says as he lets the headphones fall around his neck. “Your teeth were chatting cuz it got cold, and I woke up cuz it was cold, and that’s why we—?” Shane chokes on the words suddenly. The memory hits him slow, sluggish; the feeling of Ryan in his arms and tucked against his chest, the warmth and comfort that had carried them both into sleep. 

Ryan’s blush is worse, but he breezes over Shane’s hesitation. “I know, but what if that green thing caused the temperature drop! It’s freaky timing.”

Shane looks at the laptop again. It’s sort of weird. Not enough to disband the Shaniacs over, though. Definitely not. “I’ll give you that the green streak was weird, but it was probably just a comet or a plane. Not aliens. And temperatures drop like that all the time, that’s not proof.”

Shane actually frowns up at Ryan. “Sorry.”

Ryan doesn’t look all that put out, surprisingly enough. “You’re such—I can’t believe—it’s totally proof. It’s going in the episode.”

Shane wants to ask if the clips of them cuddling will make it in. Probably not, he thinks, unless something worthwhile happened during that stretch of time. He studies Ryan’s expression and his blush, the one that hasn’t faded, even now.

“You wanna get coffee?” Shane asks as he stands suddenly, startling Ryan into taking a step back. “Then we can tackle the recordings together?” 

Ryan stares back at him wide-eyed.

“My treat,” Shane adds. His heart is hammering again, like it did on the rooftop. No one to blame but him this time. It’s not cold, there’s definitely no aliens here. He’s just…. taking a chance. “And it would be a date, for the record.”

The blush deepens yet again but Ryan’s face splits into a grin. “Sure, okay. You owe me.”

Shane makes a confused noise in the back of his throat. “What, exactly, do I owe you for?”

“That is some solid fucking proof, and you’re just denying it because you’re afraid to admit that we got  _ proof _ and—!”

Shane closes the two feet of distance between them and leans down to kiss Ryan. He captures whatever else Ryan was going to say in the kiss and swallows the words as their mouths open to each other. They spend a few minutes like that, kissing, Shane’s hand cupping Ryan’s jaw. 

“So,” Shane murmur as he pulls back. “Coffee?”

Ryan nods dazedly. It isn’t until they’ve locked their office door behind them that Ryan speaks again. “So, uh, we shared a sleeping bag, and now you wanna date?”

“We cuddled,” Shane clarifies, tone overly loud as they stroll through the open-plan bullpen. It definitely garners some stares. “I liked it. I like you,” he continues in a quieter tone. “Ergo, I wanna date.”

Ryan frowns at his initial outburst, but it doesn’t last. He breaks into another grin after only a few seconds. “Yeah, okay.”

 

When they do their Post Mortem for the episode a week later, they start the video holding hands just for the drama of it all. They breeze by the development, more interested in getting to the myriad of questions they’ve collected. It’s pretty typical, right up until Ryan cuts him off before he can read off another question.

“I’ve got a question.”

Shane raises an eyebrow. “Okay…”

“Will you at least admit that we  _ kind of _ owe our relationship to aliens?” 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Shane says, before kissing Ryan. 


End file.
